


Desecration Smile

by cavalreapers



Category: One Piece
Genre: Abuse, Coercive drug use, Doflamingo being a prick and a half, Gen, Its a slow start but heed the warnings for future chapters, M/M, Partner and brother abuse both, Slow Burn, Slurs, Underage Drinking, Underage Drug Use
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-28
Updated: 2015-09-28
Packaged: 2018-04-23 21:04:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4892188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cavalreapers/pseuds/cavalreapers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Crocodile and Doflamingo are something like antagonistic best friends, comfortable in their strange friendship. But Doflamingo never told him he had a brother; a pretty, interesting twin. The summer between Senior year and college is bound to be an eventful one. Weird pairing, not crack. Abuse fic. Gonna get pretty sad.</p><p>Crossposted on ff.net.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Desecration Smile

**Author's Note:**

> this AU had a weird start and an even weirder journey and will probably continue down the path of weirdness. i'd like to thank my partners for helping me with this.
> 
> i'd also like to note i'm a victim of similar abuse.
> 
> this chapter includes slurs, underage drinking and prescription drug abuse. please take care!

Crocodile has to pick up the pieces of the night prior, scattered about his feet; both figuratively and literally. There’s a smashed glass on the basement floor, wet with alcohol that sinks into his guts and makes him want to throw up. The liquor already in his system makes his skull feel tight around his brain. Throbbing in the worst way, he goes about cleaning up the mess and thinking about what happened.

Doflamingo had come over with a bottle of honey Jack, that much he remembers. The thought makes him nauseated, but it had tasted good at the time. Doflamingo is nowhere in the basement, of course; God knows where he’s at.

He oozes and creaks up the basement steps once the mess is cleaned up. The clock above the kitchen sink reads noon, but the noises floating in from the dining room catch his attention.

When he shuffles into the room, he’s nearly offended at the sight in front of him.

Doflamingo is having breakfast with his family. 

Donquixote Doflamingo is having breakfast with his family and they all seem to be having a good time. They all turn to Crocodile once he enters, and Doflamingo promptly pulls out the chair next to him, huge grin spread across his face, as ever.

“Come sit next to your good pal Doffy.” he pats it helpfully, met with laughter from the rest. His step sister, Vivi, is also sitting close by her boyfriend. Mom and Cobra are present, too. Gang’s all there.

Crocodile practically pours himself into the chair, looking uneasily at the spread laid out on the table.

He takes some toast, finds that it doesn’t seem very appetizing.

“You never told me your friend was so charming, Croc.” Mom beams. Of course he’s charming now. Most other times he’s just weird and a bit … much, but Crocodile hangs out with him anyway. Crocodile shrugs.

“You don’t look so hot, man.” Kohza says. Croc doesn’t like Kohza.

“Drinking honey Jack on an empty stomach will do that to you, I guess.” Croc mumbles. Everyone pulls faces at that, but Doflamingo laughs.

“How are you not hungover, anyway?” he snaps at the other. Doflamingo takes a sip of his orange juice and shrugs.

“I never get hungover, really.”

“Fucker.”

“Be nice.” Mom chides.

“Its all right, he’s just cranky. I got the perfect cure back home if you wanna get going that way soon.”

Given the tone, Crocodile has some sort of idea of what the other is proposing, but its nothing he can talk about in front of his family. They all tolerate the occasional drinking in the basement (“As long as you’re safe in our home, its okay”), though the pair never keeps it just in the basement. They’d be disappointed to see him engaging in any other substances.

But they take their leave anyway, after some deceivingly polite good byes from Doflamingo. 

At the end of the cul-de-sac is where Doflamingo lives, biggest house in the area. Its nicer than Crocodile’s own, certainly. And there’s certainly some jealousy there, but its nothing he’d ever voice.

The house is empty when they enter, which is typically the case; the parents here are usually quite busy. 

Crocodile’s own family moved to the area a couple months prior, at the end of the school year, still settling into the quiet “howdy neighbor” sort of life they’re pretty unaccustomed to. Moving from the city to the suburbs so late in Crocodile’s senior year was counted as a strange move by everyone, but they closed the deal on the house and wanted to get in as quickly as possible.

Not like Crocodile really cares, much. His anticipation and hopes lie mostly in college, which he’ll be going to once the summer is over.

Doflamingo and Crocodile both ended up in the same college a couple hours away, so they figured they might as well get tight.

Its an odd friendship, needless to say. Lots of pointless goading.  
`  
Once they’re inside Doflamingo’s bedroom, he takes out a tall orange pill bottle from his dresser drawer. Just as suspected. Shaking out a couple, he hands two to Crocodile; the pair swallows them dry.

“That’ll make you feel better.” Doflamingo pats Crocodile’s shoulder and laughs when the other recoils at the touch.

“I hope so. I feel like fucking hot garbage or something.”

“Look like it too.”

“Fuck off.”

They find themselves in the living room anyway, waiting on the couch for the high to hit. And when it does, its magnificent.

Crocodile forgot how good it is, that thick and languid feeling weighing down his limbs. The pressure in his head lifts. He’s still not feeling one hundred percent, but he’s much closer than he was before the pills. They sit on the couch sharing a comfortable quiescence in their lifted states.

The front door opens sometime around one forty five, at the peak of their highs. 

In traipses someone Crocodile has never seen before, in quick and careless movements. They stop dead in their tracks when they see the stranger, and they look between them.

Crocodile immediately finds them striking, both on their own and in resemblance to Doflamingo. Where Doffy is square-jawed and Cheshire-grinned, this individual is softer, somehow, but a little more severe with their expression. They’ve got high cheekbones and brown eyes he can make out clearly from across the room. Androgynous, really.

Its not often that he thinks it about anyone, but they’re really a pretty individual.

Shit. Maybe its how high he is, making him think something like this.

They start making motions with their hands, sign language. Good thing Crocodile can lip read somewhat. They seem to enunciate their words clearly enough.

“ _Who’s your friend?_ ” they mouth.

“Crocodile. Long for Croco-man.”

“Don’t call me that.” Crocodile mumbles, keeping his eyes on the other. They sign again, slowly, lips moving in tandem.

“ _Its nice to meet you._ ”

“Likewise, I’m sure.” he responds. He’s not sure if the pain killers are weighing down his tongue and his words, but it certainly feels that way, “What’s your name?”

“Its Rocinante but everyone calls him Corazon around here. He’s my baby brother.” Doflamingo answers for him, snickers at some private joke.

“ _Twin!_ ” he signs, emphatically.

“Still younger.” he tells him; asks, “How was young Smokey’s?”

Crocodile can feel his eyes slipping closed of their own accord, head tipped back against the couch, but he keeps them open and on Corazon out of curiosity. He seems a little irritated, eyebrows knit together, regarding the pair on the couch with an appraising eye.

“ _It was fine. Are you high?_ ”

“What’s it to you, you fuckin’ narc?” Doflamingo snaps. Corazon averts his gaze, casts it downward. Worries at his lip, some, like he doesn’t want to meet Doflamingo’s challenge. The utterance had turned the corners of his lips down in a frown, but now the grin is back, presumably with Corazon’s backing down.

He seems embarrassed. Crocodile just watches, not thinking very much of anything besides, sorry ‘boutcha.

“ _Can I go now?_ ”

Crocodile finds it odd that Corazon has to ask for permission to leave at all, given that he entered the room himself. Its also odd, given their status at twins; what gave Doflamingo the authority -- being a couple minutes older?

Doflamingo waves his hand in a flippant motion, “Be gone, shitstain.”

His eyes linger a little on them both before he turns on his heel and leaves the room.

“You’re a pretty mean older brother.”

“No, I’m not. I care for him.” Doflamingo says, sounding the most lucid he had since taking the pills, “But if I’m not hard on him, no one else around here will be. He’s too soft.”

Its been displayed to Crocodile, before; Doflamingo’s perfectionist nature. He supposes there must be a bunch of pressure on the both of them alike, given the family’s high status in the community. Father being mayor, and all.

He doesn’t think about it deeply, and nor should he. He leaves the pieces of the puzzle there and lets his eyes slip closed. No skin off his back.

Sometime between bad reality television shows and two thirty, the pair dozes off.

*


Its probably the hottest day of the summer, but Crocodile thought that about the weather last week, too. 

Despite the sun reaching its zenith, temperature climbing, Crocodile and Doflamingo make no motions to move from their lawn chairs. He finds that he can handle hot weather much better than cold, although they see both extremes in the heart of New York. Armed with water guns and a noxious combination of Kraken rum and green kool aid (the Donquixote family forgot to get coke, apparently), they bask in the rays.

“This tastes like shit.” Crocodile remarks, makes a face. Its too strong, of course. Doflamingo aims his water gun at Crocodile’s drink and sprays the cool water into the cup.

“There.”

“Fuck off.”

He takes a sip. Tastes even worse.

Doflamingo just laughs under his breath, continues, “You’re coming to field days with me, right?”

“What’s field days?”

“Its this shitty little carnival the town puts up at the start of summer, with those rides that can be taken down in a day. Pretty much everyone goes to get high and ride the Himalaya.”

Crocodile squirts Doflamingo in the face with his own gun, contemplative. The other wipes at his face but doesn’t retaliate. Not like he has anything better to do, really. And getting high and riding shitty rides seems pretty all right in the first place.

“Yeah, okay. When’s it start?”

“Later tonight. There’s fireworks and shit on the first night.” Doflamingo shrugs, spraying a spot onto the front of Crocodile’s jeans, “Bringing along Corazon, too.”

Crocodile looks up in time to see Doflamingo wiggling his eyebrows over the rim of his sunglasses, impish smirk. He gets another spray in the face for the display.

“What’s that for?” he asks.

“Maybe you’ll find someone to hang out with or hook up with besides me.”

Another spray, “Don’t like my company?”

“Nah, you’re an asshole.”

“So are you, but you don’t see me complaining.”

“Shut the fuck up and drink your kool aid.”

*


Set somewhere under the settling twilight, there’s a couple streets absolutely filled with what Crocodile thinks is everyone who’s ever lived in the town. There’s vendors dragging carts with cheap light up toys, small stands selling fair food. There’s lights strung up all around the trees and fixtures, almost like Christmas. It really feels summery, but a little small-town-cheap at the same time. Truly magical.

The shitty rides are set in a field a ways off, and its there that most of the people their age congregate.

Crocodile knows his former classmates only briefly. Fortunately, he thinks; he didn’t really like anyone and no one really stood out besides Doflamingo. There’s some he recognizes, however, but can’t quite put names to faces.

He’s introduced to Mihawk and Kuma as ‘Croco-man’ (“Don’t call me that.”). Doflamingo talks enough for all five of them and then some, chattering away contentedly while Mihawk and Crocodile make comments here and there. 

Corazon sits at the periphery of the group, fidgets with his hands, looks away from the imbibing teenagers. Crocodile feels almost bad about it but doesn’t say a damn thing. He wonders if the other has any friends coming around. Doflamingo makes mention of them, sometimes, some guy named Smoker and a few others that he can’t remember.

“Do you want some?” Mihawk asks Crocodile at some point, sounding almost bored. He offers a can of what appears to be an energy drink, which Crocodile then trades for his own bottle of cheap vodka and pepsi.

Crocodile almost starts laughing because of what’s in the can.

“Is that fuckng _cognac_?”

“Absolutely.”

They all trade drinks and talk amongst themselves before they head off to the rides, a little pep and sway in their collective step from all the alcohol. Mihawk and Kuma part ways from them to go find some people named Perona and Zoro, who Doflamingo insults, leaving it to be just the three again. Doflamingo in the middle, he slings an arm over their shoulders and leads them to the Himalaya.

“Wouldn’t it be funny if you yakked on this ride, Croco-man? Don’t think I didn’t notice that face you pulled at the cognac, you puss.”

“That wouldn’t be funny, that’s mean.” Corazon signs. He still seems a little reticent, looking everywhere but at Doflamingo. Its quite obvious, Crocodile finds. He wonders why that is.

“No one asked you, _maricon_.” he sneers.

That shuts Corazon up, whatever it means. Crocodile frowns at the display; Doflamingo really is a dick and a half. It seems to cheer Corazon up, however, when they get on the Himalaya. They ride it together twice and there’s a smile on his face that could probably light up a room.

“That’s my favorite ride.” mouths Corazon, his smile fading into something a little wry, like he’s remembering something. Doflamingo snickers and ruffles his twin’s hair before his phone starts buzzing - he picks it up.

“Huh? Yeah? … Finally! Where’s your bitch ass at? … All right, I’ll see you.” the conversation is brief, but he hangs up and pockets the phone and digs some money out. This is then shoved into Corazon’s hands, “Here. I gotta go meet Diamante and Trebol now, so go run around with Croco-man.”

“Okay, thank you. Have fun, Doflamingo.”

He’s afforded a rare, fond sort of smile that Crocodile has never seen before. It looks odd and both out of place and character on him.

“Yeah. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t.” he strides off, cackling, leaving Crocodile alone with Doflamingo’s brother, who he hardly knows. 

It makes Crocodile feel a little pissed off, honestly, that his best and only friend is traipsing off alone to meet other friends. Why couldn’t he have come along, for one? Plus, its just fucking rude, not that Crocodile can claim to be the paragon of politeness himself.

“Do you want to get a funnel cake?” he asks, breaking the other free from his irked reverie. Crocodile thinks that a funnel cake sounds absolutely fucking amazing. He nods, lets the other lead him to the stand, where Crocodile has to order, since Corazon still isn’t talking. He’s then led to a nearby picnic table, where they sit opposite one another. Crocodile finishes off his vodka and pepsi and casts the bottle aside.

“What does that taste like, anyway?” Corazon asks, making Crocodile smirk because of the powdered sugar on his fingers as he signs. 

“Like … nail polish remover. Burns a little.”

“That’s weird, you’re weird.”

Crocodile shrugs and tears off a piece of the cake, “Does its job, I guess. Why are you so against it? Some kind of boyscout?”

Corazon shakes his head, chews a little on his lip in contemplation.

“I don’t like how it makes my brother act. I don’t want it to make me or anyone else act that way, too.”

Hm.

Crocodile considers how Doflamingo is when he’s drunk, but he’s … Actually a lot of fun. Certainly more bearable at some points. He searches. Doflamingo is sort of obnoxious, but there’s nothing terribly wrong with that, is there?

There must be something Crocodile doesn’t see.

He shrugs, licks the powdered sugar off his own fingers.

“Took you for a boyscout.”

“I’ve been called that before.” he smiles again, and Crocodile finds that he has to look away from that smile for a moment. He pulls a Camel wide out of the pack in his pocket, offers one to Corazon out of politeness. He takes it with thanks, much to Crocodile’s surprise.

For a moment, Crocodile thinks the other is just smoking to not appear a boyscout, but he doesn’t cough like a beginner would. Huh.

They drop into conversation, then, talking mostly about previous field days memories. Crocodile tells him that they had stuff like this back home, sometimes, but it wasn’t quite as cheap and small. Corazon tells him about the time he tripped and knocked someone into a ride barrier and got lemonade spilled all over himself.

The conversation flows easily for a while; probably due to Crocodile’s imbibing. 

Its somewhere long after the funnel cake is finished that a near-crowd of people come up to the table with greetings thrown towards Corazon. There’s six of them, by Crocodile’s count, a real mix.

The boy who sits closest to Corazon has quite a wicked grin on his face, nodding his head in greeting at Crocodile. Dark-skinned and with a little patch of fuzz on his chin, he looks slightly older than the rest of them. Crocodile doesn’t recognize him, or the other four that sit on his side.

He slings an arm over Corazon’s shoulders and bonks their heads together. They seem pretty close.

“Hey, you having fun?” asks the only girl in the crowd. She’s pink haired and pretty; a classmate he recognizes, but again, one he can’t put a name to.

“Yeah. Doflamingo took off so I’ve been talking to Crocodile here. Everyone, this is Crocodile.”

Corazon speaks. He speaks and its delivered so casually and smooth that Crocodile wonders why he doesn’t talk more often. Gentle tenor, no rasp or growl. He likes the way he says his name, rolling off his tongue with ease, as if they’ve been friends a while.

“This is Law, Hina, Smoker, Luffy, Ace, and Sabo.”

He points to each of them in turn. Crocodile just nods, raises his hand in greeting. They all start to chatter to Corazon and Crocodile both (“You’re that new Senior, right? Why the hell did you move at the end of the school year?”). Someone tells a joke and its met with bawdy laughter from Corazon.

The laugh is cute and Crocodile is nearly taken aback by both that and the admission of its cuteness in his own head. He doesn’t do cute, doesn’t think people are cute. But when he’s slapping the table and going -- “Yeah, yeah! He totally bought it down that hill, funniest thing I ever fucking saw!” -- its hard to not think that. Contagious, he finds, even though he wasn’t there to witness Ace allegedly wiping out down a hill on a boogie board last summer.

He laughs, too, because Corazon is laughing, and Corazon catches him doing it. Their eyes meet and, fuck. It must just be the alcohol making him feel like this. Yeah. That’s it.

Part of him just doesn’t care.

“Cora, fireworks are about to start. You gonna be okay?” Law asks. Corazon nods emphatically, smiling huge.

“Yeah, I feel good. I can handle it. Let’s get going.”

The group moves, finding a place on a hill with among the droves. Twilight has given way to night, painting the sky an inky indigo. Crocodile has to admit that the white lights all strung up against the dark actually looks quite nice. He finds his place next to Corazon, feeling sobered up.

The fireworks start shortly thereafter. Bright bursts of color and noises fill the air, lighting them up and awing the crowd. It feels a little juvenile, but it reminds Crocodile of being younger and going to fourth of July celebrations with his mother. Its nice reminiscence.

He wonders why Corazon would have an issue with fireworks; maybe he’s noise sensitive? That would make sense.

The show continues for a while, ending with the grand finale in all of its brightloudbang glory. A hush falls over the crowd for a split second, catching them in the smoky aftermath of it all. Crocodile stands.

Corazon looks up at him and through the glow of the streetlights nearby he can make out a soft sort of smile on his face. He looks away again, for a moment, but offers his hand to help the other to his feet.

“I think I’m going to go to Ace’s place with them. Do you want to come along?”

“What about Doflamingo?”

Corazon waves a hand, “They don’t like him. He’s fine with Trebol and Diamante, trust me.”

He mulls it over for a second. Its not that late, its summer; he’d just be bored at home, anyway.

“Yeah, sure.”


End file.
